Snowman Ch 2: Snowman
by Meg Matthews
Summary: Mohinder ventures out on his own to meet the Snowman. Sylar is being detained by the Company. This is the longest chapter. It takes place one year after the Chapter Collision.


Chapter II: Snowman

One Year Later

_Snowman_

_Within our valleys_

_for many a year_

_there lives an old soul_

_who inspires great fear_

_his voice is the earth_

_a rumbling growl_

_his wolves are like fire_

_a terrible howl_

_he eats up your soul_

_consumes it like bread_

_and soon you'll be found_

_all frozen and dead_

_he lives in his cave_

_it's all that he knows_

_he controls the snow fall_

_and how the wind blows_

_and while he has souls_

_he will live on and on_

_until the last semblance _

_of winter is gone._

_-Poem from a valley in Northern Quebec_

Mohinder spun his chair around, his mind wandering as the room blurred into a kaleidoscope of lab equipment and bland walls..

"Taking a break, doctor?"

Mohinder caught the edge of his desk to stop spinning, and looked up at Bob with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," he said.

"That's quite alright. Anything I can help you with?" Bob asked.

"Actually, I'd like your permission to go on a bit of an expedition," Mohinder said.

"An expedition? Where?"

"North. I've recently come upon some further evidence to verify research that Sylar had done. I believe there may be a man with an extra-ordinary ability, and I would like the chance to meet him, talk to him, offer him our help in any way."

"Is this about project Snowman?"

"It is. In my research I traced the lineage of a Scottish family with a history of powers. Roughly 200 years ago some members of that family migrated to a valley in Canada. The events, and the family history, mesh with what Sylar told me."

"If what I remember is correct, it sounds like a dangerous situation."

"I'll make sure to bring my gun. We both know I'm capable of using it."

Bob smiled wryly.

"Okay Suresh, you can go. Do whatever you think is necessary to bring the Snowman here. What do you think you will need for this trip?"

Mohinder looked around his lab.

"I think I have what I need actually. Mainly I could use transportation, and if it's possible, I would like to talk to Sylar before I go."

Bob shifted noticeably, but his smile remained.

"As you know, Sylar is still going through rehabilitation. I think it's best if you don't see him. You seem to have an affect on him that makes it harder to...keep him in check. You remember of course the last time you two met, this building was almost torn apart."

Mohinder licked his lips slightly. He looked down, unable to return Bob's gaze just then.

"I'm sorry about that. He'd caught me by surprise," Mohinder said.

"I know, doctor. No one's blaming you."

"I'll go home and pack now," Mohinder said, changing the subject, "I would like to meet this man as soon as I can."

"Be safe, Suresh. We'd like you to return to us whole and well, understood?"

"

Of course." Mohinder smiled.

XXXX

The snow crunched under Mohinder's boots. His face stung from the chill. After stamping his feet so he wouldn't track water inside, he opened the glass door to a small diner, barely registering the familiar ringing of doorbells as he entered. A plump young woman approached him, smiling pleasantly.

"Just one today?"

"Yes."

She led Mohinder to a booth by the window, placing a menu in front of him as he sat down.

"Coffee?"

"Yes please," Mohinder said, setting his bag on the seat beside him as she turned his cup over to fill it.

"I'll be back in a minute to take your order," she said, her eyes lingering for an uncomfortable moment on Mohinder's face before she blushed and walked quickly away. Mohinder tried to contain a grin, flattered by the young woman's attention. He skimmed the menu, pretending to be interested in its contents until she returned.

"Ready to order?"

"I'll have some hash browns, and a Belgian waffle with strawberries, please."

"Lots of cream?"

"Definitely."

"Alrighty. Anything else?"

"Yes actually. I'm here doing research on legends. Do you know anything about the Snowman?" Mohinder smiled innocently at her. Her features changed drastically, the corners of her mouth curling down into a disapproving frown.

"That's not exactly something we go sharing with strangers. Especially _foreigners_."

Mohinder's smile became fixed.

"It seems like a fascinating story. I would love to document it. I just need to know where to look."

"Well I can't help you, sorry." She turned to leave.

"I can pay you," Mohinder said.

The waitress paused, looking back at Mohinder as she bit her bottom lip anxiously.

"It's dangerous out there, honey. You don't know what it is you'd be getting yourself into."

Mohinder was taken aback by her sincerity.

"I have some idea," he said.

She looked around the diner for a moment, then slipped into the booth across from Mohinder.

"Every year someone dies out there. We find their remains once the snow has melted. There's usually only a few bones left. There's many times that people have suggested moving from this village. They say it's like a lottery; choosing to live here is setting yourself up to die. The only reason I haven't left is because I don't have the money. It's at the first snow that someone always goes missing. It never fails. We don't know how he chooses them. They usually disappear quietly as you please from their beds in the middle of the night, or from behind their houses. Anywhere that's covered in snow is fair game. He doesn't distinguish between children and adults. A few have seen him, catching just a glimpse when he came to take one of their family. What you're looking for isn't a legend, it's a person, as real as you or me."

Mohinder hung on her every word, fascinated and fearful by the thought of this strange man.

"Do you know where I would go to find him?" Mohinder asked.

The waitress looked down at her hands, wringing them tightly together, struggling with something.

"How much are you going to pay me?"

Mohinder turned and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a Company checkbook. He wrote a number on one of the checks with four zeroes. He ripped it out of the book and slid it across the table to the waitress.

"This should be enough to get you out of this village. I assure you that it will not bounce. There's even an address on there to reach my company if you have any questions."

The waitress took the check from him, her gaze lingering on the dollar amount. Mohinder noticed that her hands shook slightly.

"There's a path into the valley. I'll draw you a map." Her voice sounded distant, as though she had suddenly lost something very important. Mohinder watched her stand and leave the table. She never made eye contact with him. A few minutes passed before she returned, carrying his plate of breakfast. She also set a piece of paper down, and Mohinder glanced at it, impressed by the attention to detail.

"Your meal is on the house," she said, smiling vaguely and walking away to check on another table. Mohinder watched her for a moment, then began to eat. It was a large valley, and he would need his strength.

XXXX

Mohinder adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he stopped to catch his breath for a moment. Thick plumes of air blossomed before him when he exhaled, and he had a headache from the cold. With an effort, he forced his legs to move forward again. Despite being in good physical health, he found that walking through the snow was taking an incredible toll on his body. He'd been traveling for six hours, and the sun was beginning to set. Mohinder was getting nervous. He realized it was time to make a fire while he still had the light to search for wood. As Mohinder looked through a small clearing of trees, trying to find a spot not completely covered in snow, he spotted a cave. Relief swept over him at the thought of being able to rest somewhere dry.

Mohinder hurried to the cave. In his haste to reach the shelter he overlooked the dangers of the terrain, and was sharply reminded when he tripped over a snow-covered log, and fell painfully onto his stomach. His hands moved instinctively to cushion his fall, and he winced as the sharp edge of a rock bit into the flesh of his left palm. He watched the ribbon of blood streaming from his hand as it collected in a crimson pool upon the snow.

"That was smart," he said aloud.

He stood slowly, careful not to put any pressure on his left hand. Adjusting his bag carefully with his right hand, he remained in place for a moment, collecting his bearings. Feeling a little sick from falling down and losing blood, Mohinder had to force himself to focus again on getting to the cave. He stumbled slightly over dips and bumps in the landscape as he walked on. A small trail of blood followed him, dripping from the hand he now held out, palm-up,. Mohinder decided to wait until he was safely inside before attending to his wound.

As he reached the mouth of the cave, Mohinder smelled something cooking. He tensed when he walked into the cave and saw a flickering light in the distance.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

"You're a long way from home."

Mohinder spun to face the man who stood in the entrance. The doctor's right hand flew to the gun concealed under the back of his coat, but he did not pull it out.

"Do you live here?" Mohinder asked.

"I do."

The man's voice was strong, and deep. Mohinder heard the faded lilt of a Scottish accent.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I've had a bit of an accident, and was looking for a place to rest," Mohinder said.

The man stepped further into the cave and Mohinder was able to see his solid features and blonde hair. The man looked roughly forty years old. His face was stony and weathered, but handsome. It matched his voice which was earthy. He was only a few inches taller than Mohinder, but he seemed like a giant. He gently took Mohinder's left hand in his, and looked at the wound.

"That's a deep cut. We'd better tend to that."

Mohinder's right hand fell away from the gun, and he allowed himself to be led by the stranger deeper into the cave.

"I don't get many visitors out here," the man said, "it's always nice to see another human face. My dogs don't offer up much conversation."

"Dogs?"

"Sweet little guys. They get me around out here. Best form of transportation in the snow."

"I'll remember that," Mohinder said.

The sweet smell of meat was getting stronger, and he realized his stomach was growling. The man turned to him and smiled as he walked.

"After we get you cleaned up you can share some dinner with me," the man said.

"Thank you."

They reached the part of the cave where the fire was burning. A large pot was hung from wooden beams over the flames. Inside the pot was a stew with some meat, and various plants that Mohinder could not identify.

"Have a seat," the man pointed to a rough cushion on the floor by the fire.

Mohinder sat, lifting his bag over his head and setting it on the ground beside him. The man rummaged around in a tatty leather bag in the corner, and pulled out an old container, a long cloth bandage, and a rag.

"It's not modern, but it does the trick," he said, showing Mohinder the container as he kneeled on the floor beside him.

Mohinder watched as the man dipped his fingers into the salve and smoothed it gently over the open wound. It stung at first, but after a moment there was a cool numbness in Mohinder's palm. The stranger deftly wiped away the excess blood with the rag, then wrapped the bandage securely around the whole hand.

"Feel better?"

"Much better. I don't know how to thank you for this kindness."

Mohinder looked into the man's light-blue eyes. The man returned the gaze, looking into the doctor's eyes as though he were searching for something. Mohinder shifted uncomfortably, and turned his attention back to his hand.

"Dinner's almost done," the man said.

The man carried the salve and the rag back to the corner he'd found them in.

"How long have you lived here?" Mohinder asked, trying to sound casual.

"It seems like forever," the man said, "I came here when I was a teenager."

"Do you visit town often?"

"Once in awhile, when I need supplies. Where do you hail from? Your accent isn't local."

"I'm from India. I came to America to follow up on my father's research."

"Do you miss it?"

"At times I do. I miss teaching, and I miss my family."

"And your father? What happened to him?"

"He was murdered."

The man nodded as though expecting that answer, and walked over to the fire where he began to ladle stew into two bowls.

"I'm sorry to hear that. The world is a scary place."

The man picked up a cloth and wrapped it around one of the earthenware bowls before handing it to Mohinder along with a spoon.

"What sort of research do you do?"

Mohinder paused when the spoon was halfway to his mouth.

"I'm a geneticist. I look for people with special abilities."

The man stopped ladling into his own bowl, and turned to Mohinder.

"What sorts of abilities? Like intelligence?"

"More like abilities you'd find in the science fiction section of the library. I've met a man who could fly, and a young woman who could heal from any wound. I live with a girl who can find anyone in the whole world just by thinking about them. I don't expect you to believe me of course, but they are out there."

A strange smile played across the man's face, and he finished ladling his stew, then sat back to eat it thoughtfully. Mohinder ate his, and found it was delicious.

"This is wonderful," he said.

"Thank you."

The man turned and picked up a glass bottle, and two cups from his small set of dishes. The bottle was half full of an amber colored liquid. He poured some of the liquid into each cup, then handed one of the cups to Mohinder.

"Have a drink with me."

Mohinder leaned forward to take the cup. The man took several gulps from his own, before setting it down beside himself, and finishing the stew. Mohinder took a small sip and tasted a sweet honey-like alcohol.

"Did you distill this yourself?" Mohinder asked.

"I did. I make a lot of things myself. It's inevitable when you live on your own like I do."

"I guess it would be."

Mohinder took another drink, and set the cup down by his side while he ate.

"You're a good person."

Mohinder looked at the man, confused, "excuse me?"

"I can tell you're not lying to me, and despite that gun you're hiding, you have no intention to hurt me. I know you're telling the truth about those with special abilities, because I'm one of them."

Mohinder set down his bowl at the revelation.

"Are you him then? Are you the Snowman?"

"I'm him."

Mohinder shook, partly from fear, but mostly from excitement.

"I'm sorry about the gun. I brought it as a precaution. I'd heard so many stories about you."

"Perfectly understandable," the man smiled.

"Do you really control snow?" Mohinder asked. The man nodded slightly, and lifted his hand, palm out. Mohinder watched as it began to snow lightly right there in the room with them. Just as quickly as they had started to fall, the white flakes disappeared.

"In many ways I am the snow up here. I can't go where the snow isn't. I can only travel to town in the winter. When Spring hits, I retreat back up here into this cave. For some reason I'm okay in here. I think it's because the land here is always covered in snow whether it's winter, or the middle of summer."

"That's fascinating," Mohinder said, "I wish there was some way I could get you back to New York with me. What happens when you go where there isn't snow?"

"I become weak. It's terrifying. It's like death himself has gotten hold of me. I hate it."

"If I could take a sample of your blood with me, I might be able to manipulate your ability. With study I could figure out a way for you to join the rest of the world."

"I don't mind it up here," the man said quietly as Mohinder turned to rummage through his bag, "I'm happy with my life."

Mohinder stopped searching and turned to the man, "you would always have the choice of staying here of course, I'm just giving you options."

"I don't deserve options," the man said. Mohinder frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

The man looked at Mohinder anxiously, then something in what he saw changed him, and he smiled pleasantly.

"You're a good man. A good soul. I'm glad you came here. We can talk about taking some of my blood tomorrow. For now you should rest."

Mohinder opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Instead he picked up the sweet liquor and drank again from the cup. He looked into the fire, feeling the welcome warmth on his face. With the hearty meal in his stomach, he was feeling very content. He was unaware that the man was watching him as he drank once more from the cup before setting it down at his side.

"Sleep well, be well. It's going to be okay," the man whispered too quietly for Mohinder to hear. The doctor's breathing began to get deeper as he continued to look into the fire. The flames crackled warmly as Mohinder's eyes fluttered shut.

"It's going to be okay," the man repeated.

XXXX

Mohinder's heart thundered in his chest as he walked to Sylar's cell, a large hypodermic needle grasped in his hand. With a deep breath he swiped his card and slipped into the room. Sylar was lying calmly on a bed in the corner. He smiled when he saw Mohinder.

"I was hoping to see you soon.".

"Really? Why's that?" Mohinder asked.

"I thought that would be obvious," Sylar said, sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs around so his feet touched the floor.

"I'm afraid I don't speak serial killer, so you'll have to put it in laymen's terms," Mohinder said, frowning.

It had been five months since Sylar had kidnapped him, and his urge to bolt was not dulled by the fact that he was supposedly the one in control there, in the safety of the Company.

"You saved my life doctor. You could have let her kill me, but you didn't."

"You can blame my lapse in judgement on the fracture to my skull," Mohinder said. Sylar smirked and glanced at the needle.

"More tests?" he asked casually.

"Just a precaution," Mohinder said, lifting the needle and setting it on the counter against the wall.

"You think I'll hurt you?"

"Going off of past experiences, should I have reason to think different?" Mohinder asked.

Sylar stood quickly, and laughed when Mohinder took a sudden step backwards.

"Did you know they're training me here? They're trying to mold me into one of their own little supernatural soldiers."

"Is that so?"

"You didn't know that?"

"I have more important things to do with my time than worry about what they are or are not doing with you Sylar. I'm trying to help people, and I'm happy as long as you're not on the street hurting them."

"Perhaps I'm just biding my time here until I can get back to the street. Maybe I'm just hoping to meet that pretty little daughter of yours again, and take her delicious power."

Mohinder clenched his teeth, and silently cursed Bob for making him come down here. He had no idea what to say to this man, and he wasn't sure what test Bob was performing in bringing them together.

"If that's the case, I think I'll have a talk with them. You can't change a deluded psychopath. I don't know why they bother."

Sylar calmly walked across the room toward Mohinder. The doctor's jaw twitched as he fought to contain his fear.

"Why are you so frightened? You know there are three guards in the hall, and they'd be here in a second to cut me down."

"I don't..."

"Afraid of the big bad killer? The boogeyman who haunts your dreams night after night."

"I don't give you a second thought these days," Mohinder said.

Sylar blinked, taken aback by the statement.

"I find that hard to believe," Sylar said, forcing himself to smile.

"It's the truth. Why should I worry about an insignificant man whose greatest achievement in life was to be a parasite, sucking the life out of others, and still remaining just as useless. You're not worth the shirt on your back, _Sylar_."

Mohinder smiled, fueled by his anger, and sudden bravery. Sylar closed the distance between them in an instant, gripping Mohinder's right forearm with his left hand. The doctor jerked back instinctively, but the grip held. Sylar was forcing Mohinder to look him in the eye.

"I am not insignificant," Sylar growled.

"You are. You always have been. Your only legacy is inspiring fear, and you can't even do that anymore."

"I am NOT insignificant!"

"Face it Sylar, you're nothing! And to me you will always be nothing! I won't be bothered with you any longer!"

A brilliant white light suddenly emanated from Sylar, and an electromagnetic pulse exploded through the room with a loud crackle like lightning. Mohinder was blown backward, and came to a painful stop, sliding down against the wall. The lights all went dark for a moment, then the backup lights kicked in. The room was now dark, save for two lights on the floor that offered a partial and eerie glow to everything.

When Mohinder could see again, he scrambled up, and ran to the counter to grab the hypodermic. Sylar was too fast for him, waving a hand and pinning Mohinder roughly against the wall, just inches from the counter, with telekinesis. Mohinder could only watch as Sylar walked toward him.

"It's always the same with you, hiding behind your science. You can't help everyone, and yet you continue to try. I'm thinking your efforts are just a little misguided."

Sylar twitched a finger toward the door, and Mohinder heard a sharp click. There was a frantic pounding on the other side of the door. Sylar held out his right hand, and the needle flew from the counter. He caught it easily.

"You're afraid of power. You aren't trying to help people, you're trying to keep them in check."

"I'm not afraid of power. I just have no use for it," Mohinder said.

His gaze lingered on the needle in Sylar's hand. The killer smiled again as he listened to Mohinder's heartbeat escalate.

"I could have shared so much with you," Sylar said, walking so close to Mohinder that the doctor could feel warm breath on his neck, "if we had found the Snowman together, I could have shared the world with you."

"I highly doubt that."

Mohinder breathed sharply in through his nose as Sylar suddenly held the needle against his neck, pressing the point softly into his flesh. Every muscle in the doctor's body tensed as he realized he was about to die. The serum knocked a person out if injected to some part of the torso, but a direct injection into the jugular was a death sentence. He was guessing Sylar knew this.

"You can think what you like doctor. I was telling the truth. I would have shared it all with you. It's too late for that now."

"Sylar." It was all Mohinder could say as his mind struggled with his impending mortality.

Sylar stood there for a moment, breathing evenly, looking up into Mohinder's eyes. Then he stepped back. The needle was dropped, and Mohinder took in several shaky breaths. Sylar then let Mohinder fall, and the doctor collapsed to the floor, and leaned back against the wall. He put a hand to his neck, bringing it forward to see a small smearing of blood.

"How insignificant am I now, doctor?"

As Mohinder looked up there was a loud crack, and the door tore open. Doctor and killer both looked in the direction of the sound, and a moment later a number of people entered the room, Elle among them. Sylar held his hands up casually in surrender.. Elle's bottom lip pouted out as she closed her palm, snuffing out the sizzling electric energy ball she'd been ready to fire.. Mohinder turned to the killer and his mouth fell slightly open at seeing Sylar's submission.

"You okay, doctor?" Elle asked.

"Yes."

Mohinder stood as he continued to look at Sylar. The killer looked back at him, a strange smile playing on his lips as he silently dared Mohinder to break eye contact with him.

"We would have made a great team, doctor," Sylar said.

Mohinder finally forced himself to break eye-contact when the lights flickered back on. He struggled to hide the fact that he was trembling as he turned to look at Elle.

"We've got it under control," she said, "you can go."

Mohinder nodded slightly, and walked to the door.

"Come back and visit soon, Mohinder," Sylar said.

Mohinder paused for only a moment before he left the cell, hurrying down the hall. When he felt like he was far enough away, he stopped and leaned against a wall, fighting to overcome a slew of emotions, not the least of them panic.

"He can't hurt you. He won't hurt you. You're safe." He repeated this over and over to himself. Even as the fear began to leave him, he felt an unease he couldn't put his finger on. Sylar had been looking into his eyes as though he were searching Mohinder's soul, and willing Mohinder to see his in turn. The doctor closed his eyes and shook his head slightly to clear the thought. He didn't want to think of Sylar anymore. All he wanted was to do his job. Mohinder's job was his life. Now it was time for him to...

"Wake up Mohinder..."

XXXX

"Wake up." The voice was Sylar's.

"Wake up." Now the voice was Molly's.

"Time to get up, Mohinder." It was Matt Parkman.

Mohinder slowly opened his eyes in the darkness. He had been lying on his stomach, his head resting on the cushion he'd been using before. The last embers of the fire crackled feebly. He pulled himself up until he was sitting back on his knees. A coarse blanket fell from his back; the man had placed it over him while he'd slept. Mohinder rubbed his eyes, feeling a heaviness in all his movements. He blinked several times to try to clear his vision of a slight fuzziness, but it did not dissipate. Squinting into the darkness of the room, he could not find the man. He stood slowly, leaning against the wall when his vision left him for a moment, and his ears suddenly felt full of cotton. Stumbling forward a few steps, Mohinder's foot met with something on the floor, and he heard it clank as it rolled away. When his vision finally cleared he looked down to see the cup he had been drinking from, and a small trail of amber liquid spreading across the floor.

"Drugged," he whispered, sensing the room coming into sharper focus as fear jolted his system into action. His right hand strayed to his back, searching for the gun. It was gone. He looked desperately around for his bag, but it too had disappeared. The man wanted him there, unarmed, and immobile. Mohinder had a good idea why. He decided not to wait around and prove his theory correct.

Mohinder stumbled blindly toward the front of the cave, carefully dragging the fingers of his left hand over the wall to guide himself. He shivered from both cold and fear as he stepped out into the snow. A full moon loomed over the vast landscape, lighting the doctor's path. He searched through the snow for hints of the Snowman's whereabouts, and saw some fresh footprints walking around the left of the cave and disappearing from view. Mohinder headed right. His pace quickened when he heard the distant barking of wolves. At times his vision would go dark again, and he'd get the same feeling of cotton in his ears like he was about to faint. When this happened he would pause for just a moment, forcing his body to overcome the drugs, and continue on. The moon continued to move across the sky, and after an excruciatingly long time, Mohinder saw the sun beginning to rise. He welcomed the warmth it would bring as he fell down for the tenth time, and picked himself back up. His strength was leaving him fast, and he'd have no choice but to rest soon. Wiping the snow from his long lashes, Mohinder wished desperately that he were at home with Molly and Matt, sleeping in his own warm bed, blissfully unaware of his body which now throbbed with exhaustion and pain from the treacherous walk.

'I'm going to die out here,' he thought, 'and they will never find my body.'

As Mohinder leaned against a tree to steady himself and catch his breath, he thought of Molly. She had lost so many people, and now he would be one more. He hoped she would forgive him for leaving her. He had promised her time and again that he would not go anywhere. Now as he stood lost in the wilderness, he realized he would have to break that promise.

As he wiped a frustrated tear from his eye, Mohinder looked up, and was suddenly blinded by a brilliant light. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized that something was reflecting the rising sun in his direction. Squinting to see better, he was shocked to find that the reflecting surface was the glass of a window. There was a house up ahead.

Mohinder focused his remaining strength, and trudged quickly through the snow toward the house. Several minutes later he saw it clearly before him. It was old and white, roughly two stories tall. The paint was chipping away. A set of stairs led directly to the second story, while the first story seemed to act as a storage shed. There were boxes stored there, full of kindling and paper. Mohinder was most fascinated by the green that surrounded the house. As he came to stand on it, he saw that it was grass. For several feet around the house the snow was melted, and Mohinder gazed upon a machine that ran on a generator. It was the source of the snow-melt, having heated all the snow with a constant stream of hot water which ran in partially concealed tubes under the ground. Someone had put a lot of effort into making sure this house did not see snowfall.

Gripping the wide wooden rail, Mohinder pulled himself up the stairs, feeling his legs burn with every step. He knocked loudly when he reached the door, leaning against the staircase wall for support as he waited. There was no response. He knocked again, and was met once more with silence.

Not concerned with being polite any longer, he tried the door-knob, and found to his great relief that it gave way under his good hand. Mohinder cautiously entered the house, looking around for the homeowner.

"Hello? Is anyone here? I'm sorry for coming in like this, but..."

He trailed off when he reached the livingroom and saw the body on the floor. An elderly man was sprawled on his back, his right hand clutching at his chest. His face was frozen in a look of mild surprise. Mohinder estimated he had been dead a few days, and that the probable cause was a heart attack. He kneeled beside the man and gently closed his eyes so that the body looked at rest. Mohinder said a short prayer in Tamil. As he was standing he spotted the old telephone sitting on a small table by the couch. Without hesitation, he rushed to the phone and began to dial, feeling strangely elated at the familiar sound of the dial tone.

"Please be there, please be there," he whispered.

"This is Bob."

Mohinder smiled with relief as he heard his bosses's voice.

"Bob, thank god! . I've made a mistake. I just barely escaped with my life, and I need your help. You have to get Molly, have her find me. Then send one of your..."

"Mohinder, slow down. Are you okay? What happened?"

"The Snowman. I walked into a trap. But I got away. You need to send someone here to get me. They need to be very careful in the snow, it's dangerous. He's there. I don't know how powerful he is. I think he was trying to take my life-force. Better yet, send two people. It's safer that way..."

Mohinder trailed off as he looked out the window at the landscape. There were tracks in the snow. Some were paw prints, and some looked like they belonged to a sled. As he watched, the dogs circled back into view. But they weren't dogs, they were wolves, and they were pulling the sled with the Snowman. He brought them to a stop, as he looked up at the window. He couldn't directly see Mohinder from outside, but he must have sensed him there.

"Mohinder? Talk to me, Suresh."

"He'd be too powerful for them," Mohinder said quietly, "he'd kill them. Don't send anyone, Bob. I have to wait him out. Just know that I'm alive for now. Tell Molly I love her."

Mohinder hung up the phone, and collapsed onto the couch. He shivered from exhaustion, but the soft cushions under his body were beginning to relax him. Ignoring the body on the floor, he lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes. Seconds later he was asleep.

XXXX

Mohinder walked toward the cave. It was drawing him in, he had no choice. The Snowman stood in the entrance, holding out a hand toward him, beckoning him in.

"It'll be okay," the Snowman said, "it doesn't hurt. You won't feel a thing."

A knocking sound caused the Snowman to look around.

"You were followed?" he asked. The knocking grew louder. Mohinder watched the cave swirl away. The knocking continued.

Mohinder opened his eyes. He was on the couch, and someone was knocking at the door. As he sat up, he looked at the body on the floor. The man hadn't moved. Of course, Mohinder hadn't really expected him to. He didn't relish telling the man's family why he was staying in his house uninvited, leaving the dead body on the floor, but the knocking couldn't be ignored for much longer. As he stood, Mohinder was relieved to find the drugs had worn off. He rubbed his right eye with the back of his hand as he reached the door. Suddenly remembering his predicament, he took his hand from the knob, and called out warily.

"Who's there?"

"Mohinder, it's Maya. We're here to help you."

Mohinder smiled and opened the door, happy to greet his saviors. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the tall, lean, and smiling man standing next to Maya. Sylar took a step forward.

"It's been a long time, doctor."


End file.
